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Arianna a Naxos, Hob XXVIb:2

Introduction

‘I am delighted that my favourite Arianna is well received at the Schottenhof, but I do recommend Fräulein Pepperl to articulate the words clearly, especially the passage “Chi tanto amai”’. So wrote Haydn in March 1790 to his friend and confidante Maria Anna von Genzinger, wife of Prince Esterházy’s doctor. He had probably composed his dramatic solo Italian cantata some time the previous year. And though it is unlikely that Haydn intended it primarily for ‘Pepperl’, Maria Anna’s teenaged daughter, the cantata’s keyboard (rather than orchestral) accompaniment, limited vocal compass (spanning only a twelfth) and modest degree of virtuosity suggest that, like the songs, it was conceived as much for the cultured amateur as for the professional. Whatever its precise raison d’être, Arianna fast became one of Haydn’s best-loved works. In 1791 it was a hit at his London concerts, sung—improbably—by the castrato Gasparo Pacchierotti; and when Lord Nelson and his retinue visited Prince Esterházy’s palace in 1800, the cantata was performed by ‘Mylady Hameelton’. According to a letter of April 1790 to the publisher John Blair, Haydn intended to orchestrate the accompaniment. But he never got round to it. And in any case, the keyboard writing is thoroughly idiomatic, its expressive character and dynamic markings clearly implying the fortepiano rather than the harpsichord.

The subject of the Cretan Princess Ariadne’s desertion by Theseus on the island of Naxos has attracted composers from Monteverdi to Richard Strauss. In some sources of the myth (and in Strauss’s opera), Bacchus turns up in the nick of time to rescue her from her plight. But in others she dies, half-crazed with grief. And the anonymous text set by Haydn implies such a tragic outcome. Like the orchestrally-accompanied Scena di Berenice Haydn composed in London, Arianna alternates recitative and aria in four distinct sections. First comes a slow, reflective recitative, beginning in E flat but modulating widely, that depicts Ariadne’s voluptuous awakening, the dawn (evoked in a long keyboard crescendo before ‘Già sorge in ciel’) and her mingled languor and impatience for Theseus’s return.

Then in a largo aria in B flat (‘Dove sei, mio bel tesoro?’), opening with a wonderfully sensuous phrase that recalls the Countess’s ‘Dove sono?’ from Figaro, she begs the gods to bring him back to her. Her underlying anxiety, though, becomes increasingly evident in the faltering vocal line, often punctuated by rests, and the music’s harmonic instability, with sudden shifts to the minor mode. The aria breaks off for the second, intensely dramatic recitative (‘Ma, a chi parlo?’), full of sudden changes of tempo and motif: at the opening Ariadne climbs the cliff (duly illustrated by the piano) as the music modulates slowly from C major to A major and back again; then after the numb realization of her abandonment (‘ei qui mi lascia’), she experiences, successively, desperation, indignation and near collapse (expressed in a poignant, ‘tottering’ F minor arioso at ‘Già più non reggo’). The daughter of Minos recovers her regal dignity for one last time in the slightly formal F major opening of the final aria (‘Ah! che morir vorrei’). But her anguish and outrage erupt in the closing F minor presto, with its yearning repetitions of the key phrase ‘Chi tanto amai’ (the words Haydn cited in his letter to Maria Anna von Genzinger). After the singer’s last despairing F minor outburst, the piano postlude culminates in a laconic F major cadence of grim, almost mocking finality.

Recordings

'Much subtle musicianship in fine and neglected repertory and I am sure that no one who buys it will be disappointed' (Gramophone)'There can't be many more delightful ways of spending an hour than in the company of these songs' (International Record Review)» More

Accompanied by Eugene Asti, Sarah Connolly sings songs by Haydn, Brahms, Hahn, Korngold and Weill. Her distinctive, intelligent, warm, bright-sounding mezzo-soprano will be enjoyed by her growing 'army' of fans in this rich, romantic repertoire.» More

Theseus my beloved, where are you? I seem to have you near me, but a flattering treacherous dream deceives me. Already rose-coloured Dawn is rising in the sky and Phoebus colours the grass and flowers rising from the sea with his golden hair. Adored husband, where have your footsteps led you? Perhaps your noble ardour calls you to pursue wild beasts. Ah come, my dearest and I shall offer a more pleasing prey to your snares. Clasp Ariadne's loving heart, which adores you faithfully, with a firmer knot, and let the torch of our love shine more beautifully. I cannot bear to be apart from you for a single moment. Ah beloved, I am already consumed with longing to see you. My heart sighs for you. Come, my idol.

Where are you, my treasure? Who stole you from this heart? If you do not come, death is already mine, nor do r resist my grief. If you have pity, O Gods, fulfil my desires; return my dear beloved lo me. Where are you? Theseus!

But to whom am I speaking? Only echo repeats my words. Theseus does not hear me, Theseus does not answer me, and my words are earned away by the wind and the waves. He must not be far from me. Let me climb the highest of these steep rocks: I shall discover him thus. What do I see? O heavens! What a wretch am I! That is the wooden Argosy, those men are Greeks. Theseus! He is on the prow! O may I at least be mistaken ... No, no, I am not mistaken. He flees, he leaves me abandoned here. There is no longer any hope for me, I am betrayed, Theseus, Theseus, listen to me Theseus! But alas! I am raving. The waves and the wind are stealing him from my eyes for ever. Ah, you are unjust, 0 Gods if you do not punish the infidel! Ungrateful man! Why did I snatch you away from death? So you had to betray me? And your promises and your oaths? Perjurer! Infidel! Have you the heart to leave me? To whom can I turn? From whom can I hope for pity? I can already bear no more: my step fallers, and in so bitter a moment I feel my trembling soul weaken.

Ah, how I should like to die in so fatal a moment, but the heavens unjustly keep me in my cruel torment.

Wretched and abandoned I have no one lo console me. He whom I loved so much has fled, barbarian and infidel.

Theseus my beloved, where are you? I seem to have you near me, but a flattering treacherous dream deceives me. Already rose-coloured Dawn is rising in the sky and Phoebus colours the grass and flowers rising from the sea with his golden hair. Adored husband, where have your footsteps led you? Perhaps your noble ardour calls you to pursue wild beasts. Ah come, my dearest, and I shall offer a more pleasing prey to your snares. Clasp Arianna’s loving heart, which adores you faithfully, with a firmer knot, and let the torch of our love shine more beautifully. I cannot bear to be apart from you for a single moment. Ah beloved, I am already consumed with longing to see you. My heart sighs for you. Come, my idol.

But to whom am I speaking? Only echo repeats my words. Theseus does not hear me, Theseus does not answer me, and my words are carried away by the wind and the waves. He must not be far from me. Let me climb the highest of these steep rocks: I shall discover him thus. What do I see? O heavens! What a wretch am I! That is the wooden Argosy, those men are Greeks. Theseus! He is on the prow! O may I at least be mistaken … No, no, I am not mistaken. He flees, he leaves me abandoned here. There is no longer any hope for me, I am betrayed. Theseus, Theseus, listen to me Theseus! But alas! I am raving. The waves and the wind are stealing him from my eyes for ever. Ah, you are unjust, O gods if you do not punish the infidel! Ungrateful man! Why did I snatch you away from death? So you had to betray me? And your promises and your oaths? Perjurer! Infidel! Have you the heart to leave me? To whom can I turn? From whom can I hope for pity? I can already bear no more: my step falters, and in so bitter a moment I feel my trembling soul weaken.